


I ain't giving up on him... yet

by MALLR4TS



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Comfort, Crying, F/M, Hurt, M/M, Other, Reader and Micah are dating, argument, relationship, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25965178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MALLR4TS/pseuds/MALLR4TS
Summary: You've finally snapped at Micah after he put your life on the line. Thankfully, the camp are there to comfort you.
Relationships: Micah Bell/Reader
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Done for a request. I'm a sucker for our rat man :^)
> 
> Tumblr and Twitter are @MALLR4TS

It was meant to be a quick and simple job, a classic Stagecoach robbing mission. Micah, the idiot that he is, had drawn too much attention and gotten the two of you into a lot more trouble than you needed.

You bailed, of course, seeing as you're the sensible one in this relationship. Micah had to follow. He knows he can take all those men on with his eyes closed, but his gut told him to come after you. 

You bolted back to Clemens Point, shushing your horse as you arrived back at camp. Micah was on your tail, you could overhear him shouting after you, though you tried your best to ignore him. You were quick to hitch your horse, giving them a treat before turning into camp. You made a mental note to go brush and de-saddle your horse later, but not right now. You were seeing red.

"Where you going?" Micah calls yet again, de-mounting his horse and running after you. A few eyes were staring at the two of you, tension thick in the air. Was this it? Was it all going to kick off? 

Many of the camp members had warned you about what kind of man Micah was, saying you'll get fed up with him sooner or later. Maybe today was that day.

"Don't ignore me, sweetheart," Micah says as he reaches out to grab your arm, trying to spin you around. You snatch your arm away, scoffing at him as your furrowed brows meet his concerned expression. 

"You fucked it up, Micah!" You spat. Micah raised his hands, a generic pose of his that you'd seen far too many times.

"I ain't fucked anything. We had em, till you turned heel 'n' ran," Micah huffs, his frustration building. 

"I ran because I was scared, Micah. I don't wanna lose my life over a fucking stagecoach robbery!" 

Micah's eyes meet the floor, dipping his head as he tries to think this through. He lets out a long sigh before speaking again.

"You had nothing to worry about, couldda let me handle it all," Micah replies.

"Oh, sure. You handle it all whilst I stand there like a lemon and risk getting shot!" 

"You wouldn't have been shot," Micah eyes meet yours again as he rests his hands on his belt. "I know what I'm good at." 

"Oh? You do? You must know how good you are at being bad," you scoff, attempting to turn and walk away. Micah follows.

"Here you go," he mocks. "What ever happened to you telling me that deep down I'm a good man, huh?" 

"I must have been blind. A good man wouldn't put his sweethearts' life on the line." 

You're practically walking in circles at this point, head forward as you walk around the outskirts of the camp, trying to shake Micah off your tail. He stalks you, like a cougar following its prey. The whole camp is watching the two of you, muttering between themselves on when they should step in. 

"Your life wasn't on the line," Micah rolls his eyes. 

"It was! And I ain't losing it so Micah Bell can play about with his guns." 

Micah reaches out to grab you by your shoulders, spinning you around and holding you in place. 

"How many times I gotta tell ya, huh?!" Micah snaps. You swat his hands away but stay facing him. "You had nothin' to worry about." 

"Yes! I! Did!" you pause between each word. "For once in your stupid life could you just think about somebody other than yourself?"

His hands come to rest on his hips. "You know I think about you all the time," he replies, though his reply definitely doesn't sound sincere. 

"God. There's no reasoning with you, is there?" You walk away, and of course, Micah attempts to follow. "Leave me alone!" You shout at him over your shoulder. Micah pauses for a moment, shocked at finally seeing your breaking point. He goes to follow you but somebody holds him in place.

"You better let them walk, Micah," Arthur glares as his hand blocks Micah from following. Micah swats his arm out the way, about to follow until Dutch intervenes.

"Mister Bell, leave ___ to it, please," Dutch sighs, his hands resting on his hips as he stands on the other side of Micah. 

Micah goes to say something but brushes it off, turning heel and walking away from both of them. He storms off into the forest, probably to clean his guns whilst he grumbles to himself.

Before Dutch can say anything, Arthurs already gone after you, letting out a long sigh to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur finds you sat along the beach, quietly crying to yourself. You let the tears flow, going over the whole occurrence to ensure that you really are in the right. You are. Micah was being selfish. 

"You mind if I join you?" Arthur softly asks as he approaches. You nod as you sniffle, seeing Arthur sit down in the corner of your eye.

Arthur glances over at you. "Do you... wanna about it?" Arthur asks. He's always one to comfort folk, though he sometimes struggles to find the right words to say.

"There ain't much to talk about," you reply. "Just Micah being Micah, you know," you softly laugh, shaking your head at such a silly remark.

"I hate to say this but... we did warn you," Arthur apologetically says, raising his hands slightly.

You sigh, wiping the tears from your eyes. "I know y'all did. I just... I see good in him," you shrug. 

"I believe there's good in everyone, but that man, ___, he's too far gone," Arthur shakes his head. "You're wasting your time." 

"Maybe, but..." you pause, softly sighing before continuing. "I ain't giving up on him yet." 

Arthur softly chuckles at you, shaking his head. "Yet," he repeats.

"Yet," you nod, "I'm real soft on him. I hope I can urge him to change," your eyes meet Arthurs. Arthur feels his heart drop, wanting to shake some sense into you. The sight of you teary-eyed over a rat of a man made him full of rage and sorrow. 

"I ain't gonna say anything, ___. I ain't gonna tell you what you can and can't do. You know how I feel towards him," Arthur shrugs. "Just promise me you'll come straight to us if you ever need us?" 

"Of course, I promise," you say as you hold out your pinky. Arthur laughs.

"You pinky swearin' with me? This must be serious," he chuckles as his pinky locks with yours. You laugh along with him, the tears finally coming to a stop. "You wanna come sit with me at the campfire? It's gettin' cold," Arthur offers. 

"Sure," you reply. Arthur gets up, offing you a hand. He pulls you onto your feet, his hand softly rubbing along the top of your back as the two of you walk back into camp.

A few camp members check on you as you return, some of them following to sit amongst you at the campfire. Pearson offers you a bowl of stew, making a comment on how you must be hungry. You thank him, taking your time to eat it. 

The sun slowly sets along the lake, turning the sky warm shades of orange and red. The water is calm, the sound of it softly hitting the beach faint in the distance. The sound of talking and laughter is loud amongst the camp, though it doesn't seem to wake the camp members that have already gone to bed. 

Micah watches you out the corner of his eye from afar, jealous that the camp was trying their best to cheer you up. 

Sean was being Sean, loud and charismatic, telling everybody a story that was making your eyes light up. Bill had handed you another bottle of liquor as he took a seat next to you. Arthur was being Arthur, gentle and kind as always. Dutch had even sat with you all for a short while, checking in on you as he gently placed his hand on your back. The girls had popped by one at a time, all letting you know much they cared for you. Uncle had even made a comment that made you roll your eyes and laugh. 

Micah doesn't question himself, knowing exactly why nobody had come to check on him. He can't deny that he is a little jealous, though he's used to being his own company and comfort. 

He continues to sharpen his knife, leaning against a tree beside the horses. His eyes momentarily meet yours, making him feel sick to his stomach. He's quick to holster his knife, chucking the whetstone to the floor as he walks away. You watch him, wanting to go over and talk to him but your gut tells you not to bother. You were enjoying yourself and if Micah wanted to be angsty in the shadows, then let him.

The sky eventually turns black, leaving the air cold and silent. Most of the camp members had dropped off one by one, and you decided you were next. You slowly got up, thanking everybody and saying goodnight. 

The first thing you see when you enter your tent is Micahs bedroll, though he never uses it. Micah can stay awake for days, probably fulled by angst and sarcasm. He had chucked his bedroll in here when the two of you started dating, though he mostly put it there for you to use as an extra layer of warmth. 

You could count the number of times you'd seen Micah sleep on one hand, minus the power naps he takes around camp. You assumed he never slept because that was when he was most vulnerable, his needy side coming out, sometimes talking in his sleep about his brother and father.  
He'll usually cuddle you until you fall asleep, then gently get up and sit by the campfire until the early hours. 

You change into something more comfortable, lying on your bedroll and settling for the night. Thankfully, you don't take long to fall asleep, still worn out from all that crying. It feels weird to not spend hours awake, thinking about your life decisions, but at least you were sound asleep.

Well, you were.

A certain someone gently shakes you awake. You rub your eyes as you let out a soft 'mhmm'. 

"You're awake," Micah quietly says. You look over your shoulder to see the dark outline of him sitting beside you. 

"Let me sleep," you sigh, looking away from him. 

"I gotta talk to ya," he tells you.

"Babe, I'm tired," you tell him. Micah can feel his heart drop as you call him by that name, though you were far too tired to realize you'd called him that.

"Darlin'?" Micah asks, his hand lightly shaking you again.

"Ughhh," you groan. "If I let you talk, then will you let me sleep?" you ask, eyes shut as you face the canopy. 

"Sure," Micah replies. You remain silent, your ears open as you wait for his reply. 

"I apologize for how I acted," Micah grits his teeth slightly as he says the word, clearly not used to admitting when he's in the wrong.

"This what you woke me up for? A half-hearted apology?" you rub your eyes. 

"Yes," Micah quietly replies.

"Leave me to sleep, Micah," you huff, lying back on your side as you try to sleep. 

"I am, darlin'. I shouldn't have gotten big for my boots. I hurt you," Micah says under his breath. 

"I know," you sigh. "Apology accepted. Just stop thinkin' about yourself for once, alright?" you groan, still half-asleep. 

"Mhmm," Micah says, taking off his hat and placing it in the corner of your tent. He lays down beside you, unsure of what to say. For once, Micah is fighting back tears, so afraid that he's lost you. He used to gloat about how he'd never get soft on another person, but that all went out the window when he met you. 

"Can I... are you..." Micah stutters. You know what he's trying to say.

"Yes," you quietly tell him, still facing away.

Micah rolls over, wriggling his arm under your neck as the other one wraps around your waist. You can feel his hot shaky breath on the back of your neck, his facial hair pressed against your head. He clings onto you tighter than usual, his heart thudding against your back, hands gripping onto you for dear life.

You can't deny that you love having Micah hold onto you. You got to see the side of him that nobody else did, that soft gentle side that you're certain nobody else has ever seen, not even himself. 

You're still angry at him, he knows this, but you move your hand down to rest on top of his. His breaths become even more shaky, just like yours do when you're trying not to cry. Micah's fingers lock in between yours, your palm pressed against the back of his hand. It doesn't take you long to fall back asleep, Micah following shortly behind. 

Morning arrives, and you've woken up to a gentle kiss on your temple. You faintly hear Micah saying something about coffee as he slowly untangles himself from you. You slowly roll onto your back, rubbing your eyes, overhearing Micah re-enter the tent. As you sit upright, Micah hands you a cup of coffee, kissing your temple again. 

Ah, he's trying to make things up to you. 

He does a good job. The next few days are spent with Micah smothering you whenever the two of you are alone. He avoids you when others are around, not wanting to fule any fires, but jumps on you at every opportunity he can get. 

By the end of it, you're having to tell Micah to stop smothering you in stolen jewelry and clothes. He's unsure of how to really make it up to you, seeing as he's never actually gone out of his way for anybody before. The kiss you leave on his lips makes him realize that you're no longer mad, though he's certain he'll never fuck up again.


End file.
